Day 5
The baby had been quiet as his mother watched over him, the moonshine was having a conversation of light with his beautiful face. They followed the current of the lake, light dancing off the water as the small boat felt like it was being guided from below.
Had she seen faces in the water? She continued to paddle down the
lake and saw the hollow island of her tribe. It was very sacred to her
people, no one lived there, but that night she could see a small fire burning further from the shore.
As she dipped her oar into the lake, she really did see a face, and then hands appeared on all sides of the craft. The mother dropped the oar, picked the baby up and held him to her chest, as the boat was guided ashore.
As she huddled with her baby, three beautiful women appeared from the water. These creatures were the Women of the Lake, half human, half aquatic. The new mother felt comforted as the mermaids helped her get out of the boat.
The Lake Women were whispering in a language she had never heard before, the language was strange but somehow she could understand, she was meant to leave the baby here, he would be safe.
The Women of the Lake guided the mother into and under the water and held her there, until the last of the air was pushed from her lungs. Hands gently touched the top of her cheeks and travelled down her face ending before her mouth. She could feel the shape of her face changing under their touch. As water rushed into her cheeks she took in her first breath through her new gills.
Now, she was reborn, her purpose was to guard this place with her new sisters and her son.
A scream of deep pain echoed throughout the island, as the baby started to cry.
The mother wanted to swim towards her child but the sisters held her back. You are a lake woman now, we have a slave to care for your son and we will rule over and under our island. A woman appeared from the woods, picked up the newborn, pressed his face to her breast and with that the baby stopped crying and took his first milk.
Guest Ghostwriter Karen Craig on Echo Island...
The Night Portal
Karen’s Journal, Day1
A Guest on Echo Island
Hello, I’m Karen, I call myself an intuitive advisor, but everyone else calls me psychic.
This is my journal of musings, impressions and experiences, during my time on Echo Island. I hope that Sharin’s paintings and our combined stories will draw you in, dear reader, and envelop you in the very essence of this enchanted island.
This was my first physical visit to Echo Island. But I had visited many times through Sharin’s paintings, and I mean that in the most literal sense. In my home, I am surrounded by her art, and have discovered that her miniature circular paintings act as a portal for me to explore the island, both in my dreams and in my waking hours. Sharin calls her miniatures, globies, because of the thick palette knife strokes and layers, I’ve discovered her globie of the night sky over Hollow Lake beckons me in the most.
So I was thrilled to be the first guest of the summer, to step from the boat, onto the freshly installed dock. I Immediately moved towards the lake, eager to feel its cool waters swirling around my legs, as I waded along the shoreline.
Revelling in the fact that I was here, among the trees, the critters of the forest, the rock, the flowers, and the green, while soaking in that blue lake vista with every fibre of my being.
The now placid lake held its own deep dark secrets, but only fragments were softly emerging into the periphery of my psyche, like a sigh. So long ago. All the players had moved on, but Hollow Lake remembered and guarded the secrets of the past in its depths.
Were there mermaids here as well? Helping to keep those secrets, mesmerizing with sound just as the island mesmerized with dark, light, and colour?
That thought vanished as the cabin was enticing me to come inside, where past and present flowed into one welcoming room. There was tea and a crackling fire.
Echo Island Day 4
The rain had made the most delightful noise on the roof with the afternoon thunderstorm, and I fell asleep on the sofa beside the fire. Awake now, I had to tell you what I saw, witnessed, felt in a way, as if in a dream or another reality, I really don’t know, but here goes.
“Oh no, It’s a boy,” she gasped with the little breath she had left from birthing him, then asked, “Size of his head?”
“I’m sorry but it’s a small head and he has the face of a woman, it’s always boys from these devils, they never sire girls.” the Midwife exclaimed.
Most of the women in the birthing tent looked away, unable to face what this new mother must do.
“His head is not a warrior’s head, nor is his face, you must return him to the water now, do not look at his face, do not make that connection,” pleaded the Midwife. The Midwife and her helpers wiped her clean, helped her to stand and get balanced for the task. The Midwife swaddled the small boy in a deer pelt and made sure to cover his face. With that he started to cry and it was a strong cry, as the midwife placed the baby in the mother’s arms, gently preventing her hand from lifting his face cover.
Holding the baby close to her chest, the new mother walked down to the water with her son.
The moon was full and reflected on the dark lake, there was a soft warm breeze. By now,the baby had stopped crying. Had the doeskin become a shroud she wondered, half hoping the child passed.
Could he have known he was not wanted, but no, no,
he was wanted, she didn’t want to remember
those angry foreign faces and the violence in which he was conceived.
There was still no sound from the baby, if he had passed, she needed to look upon his face so they could find each other in the next life.
Pulling back the pelt, there he was, with features as delicate as a girl’s, the moonlight then baptised this vulnerable creature, he was half her people, but mostly looked like the others, the violent ones. In his face, she saw all the ancestors, all the past and just knew, she must choose flight. She put the little animal skin craft in the water, placed the child safely in the bottom of the boat, took the oar and set out with her newborn son.
Now that I’m journaling, I can understand that this vision showed there was a time before. A time in the past where ancient tribes and animals roamed until they were no more.
Echo Island on Hollow Lake
The Arrival.
Echo ISLAND Day 3
Dear reader, this came as a confusing journal entry for me.
I suddenly woke up and fumbled around trying to find my flashlight on the side table.. I wasn’t sure if I was waking from a dream or a deep meditative state. I didn’t understand what my emotions were or what had just happened to me.
I was awake enough to find my way to the kitchen, while not disturbing the dogs and got a glass of water. I checked the fire in the cast-iron stove, it was still crackling but it had dwindled significantly from the time I had gone to bed. I left the doors on the stove open and put a small log on the fire. I guessed it was around 2, maybe 3 in the morning.
I looked outside the kitchen window, all was very quiet, I had an urge to go outside
and look at the night sky but for the moment I just needed to sit down and recover. There’s an old art deco chair in front of the fire, upholstered in a soft velvety green and I enjoyed sitting surrounded by its wise and comforting arms.
Now, I recalled that I was meditating in my dream and remembered having a heavy sinking feeling, not scary, just foreign. I couldn't move and it felt like I'd been turned into the rock beneath me, granite, hard and sparkling. Weighted down with the legacy of old, with life brimming everywhere.
I was a part of the dark core of this place, lights were moving around in a slow sparkle. An unseen hand offered me a branch with tiny buds that cast brilliant blossoms of light. I was without any understanding of this gift other than I felt like granite being warmed by sunshine and the wonder of it woke me.
So now, here I was, just sitting by a warm fire in the arms of this chair, feeling safe and enjoying the odd wonder of this place. I drank my water and felt a great need for sleep.
I’m off to bed, dear reader, and look forward to making more sense of this journal page tomorrow.
Echo Island Day 2
I was relieved to see the spider, who spent the night up in the corner of the skylight, above my bed, was still there. She, our spider, could have straddled a good size coffee cup and not got her feet wet. Later today, we’ll send her on her way to spend her spring outside, to do all things dock spiders do. I fed the boys, Border Collies not spiders, Sullivan and Hugo, then collected water at the lake to make coffee. The Collies are always up for a trip to the water.
I took the pair of galvanised steel buckets to the lake, filled them and carried them to the cabin. I put one of the buckets on the propane stove to make hot water to do the dishes and poured some into the Berkey. After collecting firewood, we got the fire going in the main room’s wood stove. Once the fire was going strong, I poured a coffee for myself and returned the bodem to the old red brick on top of the woodstove. I figured that I’d have my coffee by the fire and see how the weather was doing before starting to paint.
Anxious to survey the painting and photographic potential of this 4 acre island, I took the boys for a walk. The screen door shut behind me with that smack that most cottagers love.
There was a full covered porch on this side of the cabin.
It flows onto solid Canadian shield. On the west side of the granite there is a small circular garden, called the Fairy Ring, which contains yellow greens and blue green mosses and a few foxgloves. A 1950s, metal, shell shaped chair, which had been repainted with many shades of greens, ruled over the fairy realm. However, my favourite place to sit is on the porch steps looking directly at the very old oak tree that I refer to as “The Ancestor”.
South of the porch, beside The Ancestor is the fire pit. We will give it a good sweep later in the day to remove all the leaves and pine needles that have accumulated over the winter.
Logs have been placed in a circle around the large fire pit on the sloped granite. It is easy to imagine all the past stargazing, the bonfires lighting up the night sky with the prayers said to the God Stars that ruled it.
This cabin was built in 1910, a past pandemic must have passed this way. I can almost hear the ghosts saying, “may we find safety, for us and ours”. This seems so relevant now, during our own pandemic.
Of course, those who were here before the cabin was built, have witnessed things from another age, but I’ll leave that for a later journal entry, with one exception, that this is a place that has always been ruled by the feminine.
Look at me, the artist, doing my best to describe this place with words instead of paint and I haven’t even left this porch yet. While I’m still on the porch, I have to tell you about the old 1920s enamel table and its press back chairs which have all have been painted white. I’m going to sit here after our walk and draw in my sketchbook.
Well I’m off for my walk, I’ll report back tomorrow, if I can get to it. Be well, dear reader.
Echo Island Journal
The Stayhot
The following is my journal account of time spent at Echo Island on Hollow Lake in Ontario, Canada. Nothing can be truly real until it’s spent time bathing in our imagination, but I’ll do my utmost to keep my words believable.
“When you are young, you run hard and fast into the future and sometimes it returns you right back to the past”
We launched the motorboat onto Hollow Lake, it was a beautiful spring day under rolling clouds through a blue sky. It's about a twenty-minute boat ride from Mountain Trout House Marina, just outside Dorset and by the time we rounded the little island, one of those transitory clouds began to pour down on us. As the dock had not been installed yet, to moor, I went over the side of the craft while Annette brought us closer to shore.
The lake was surprisingly warm for May and the only shock was jumping into the lake fully clothed. It’s shallow here on this side of Echo Island. Luckily the Iphone in my bag was still dry after wading in the lake. Having secured our craft between two rocky outcrops and the dock, sitting on shore, we could now bring everything up to the century old cabin.
There was no running water, only lake water, as well as candles and a propane stove. Then our adventure began.
Once all was carted up to the cabin, we turned the propane on, made tea and started a fire in the cast iron stove. The cabin was cold and took a while to warm up, once I changed into something dry, I was eager to make the most of it, maybe starting with my sketch book at the kitchen table while I drank my tea.
The kitchen was large with an old oak table in the middle of the room, paraded around the table were 1940’s chrome chairs covered in shiny red leather, later I learned that Annette had purchased them when she was seventeen, for tens of dollars. Their first purpose was seating for waiting patrons in a barbershop, where they could rock on those chrome legs while reading their newspapers as they waited for a shave. Now the chairs have been retired and moved to island life, from the barbershop gossip to vacation table talk.
The room was packed with all kinds of vintage kitchen accessories, cast iron skillets, tea kettles and pots all in their dull black.
There was a whole army of mason jars holding basics such as oatmeal, sugar and tea, keeping all of the aforementioned safe from the craftiness of the red squirrel population on Echo Island.
The sink was huge and white with a cast-iron green water pump. The window sitting above the sink and some of the room trim was painted a deep aged red, the kind of red that changed depending on the light. Sometimes the red had a deep wine quality and other times looked pink or when the light hit it just right, an orange glow. Adding to this colour arrangement, a row of old glass bottles sat on the windowsill, blue, violet, green, amber and pinky red bottles back lit by the forest sunshine.
I think the true winner for this day was the white ceramic Art Deco teapot with a felted metal chrome cover to keep that brew as hot as possible, because hot tea was serious business in the 1920s. I think this was called the Stayhot and it definitely sticks to its name today. The Stayhot had so inspired me that I abandoned the sketchbook and headed straight to my oils and painted this little beauty on a small round panel. Tomorrow who knows what I’ll paint but there is never going to be enough time for me here, living in the present-past.
SOLD
“The Summer Love”
“Blue”, “The Roses” and “Mudita” are now sold, I’ll be posting what’s still available later today, Thank you!
Pocket Painting SALE
Weekends are for Pocket Paintings
During Covid lockdown I was secluded at home with my dogs, like many of us. I found solace in painting my love of nature on small panels. I am now offering these pocket paintings for sale. They include florals, waterscapes, Koi fish, and snowscapes ranging in size from 4" × 6" to 8" × 10".
These pop-up sales are on weekends from Friday to Sunday night. The first sale begins with the florals this weekend October 29 - 31, 2021 available by contacting me by DM or at sharinbarber @gmail.com.
My annual art shows for public viewing and visiting were cancelled for two years. However, I currently have large pieces in three galleries.
I look forward to sharing my projects for 2022 with you all soon. Thank you for viewing nature through my artistic eye.
Sharin
PEACHES STINKS...
Peaches is a Jack Russell Terrier that visit a dog park called Cherry Beach everyday for a walk, this is a cartoon inspired by real life dogs at a real life dog park in Toronto, Ontario in Canada. Follow her and friends every Sunday from our Instagram account.
Duncan
Just finishing up this large painting of Duncan.
Water Dogs
I’m working on a water dog series for a gallery in the States, some eight paintings are almost ready to go.
I’m just putting a few details on them and some varnish and off they go… Good dogs :)
Paint Echo Project
My sister in-law took a photo, I loved it so I painted it. People’s photos fascinate me, someone’s else’s vision, then I take it and make it my own. It’s a conversation that I keep having with you. I stalk social media and if I find some photo I like, I’ll ask if I can paint it. This is the year that I’m going to lean into this, have a photograph that you have taken and want me to paint it, tag me and let’s see where the year takes us? It’s my Paint Echo and I’ll work towards another fall show... Thank you
Studio Show and Sale
We are having a show and sale here at the Delta.
Opening Friday November 30th at 7pm until 9pm
Saturday and Sunday December 1st and 2nd at Noon until 5pm.
at 1125 Gerrard Street East, entrance off of Leslie, just behind
the dog food store.
Water Dogs
I’m working on some large pieces to send to the States, 36” x 48” panels of some water dogs.
Working on a few things...
I have dropped a few waterscapes to Art Interiors for their Smalls show.
Koi Pond Visits
It’s been a very hot summer here in Toronto, I have visited a few of my favourite ponds to take pictures and to just enjoy the beauty of these well loved koi fish and their ponds.
